The Elder Scrolls: Reflections of Madness
by MyLittleRosebud
Summary: A young man Inherits a mysterious Journal and an odd trinket from a wandering stranger. Perhaps these items lead to a great treasure the wanderer spoke of, or perhaps they point the way to a dark secret. Will the man survive the trials ahead, or will he succumb to the same demise as the writer of the mysterious journal.
1. Entry 1

Entry #1

4E 201  
Morndas, 23rd of the Sun's Dusk

It all starts with a whisper. Isn't that what they say. A simple exchange of confidential knowledge, and everything gets blown out of preportion. A few secret words in the ear and suddenly the world is ending. It's funny, when i heard that the ancient dragon Alduin had returned from the grave, i... i didn't really wanna believe it. I think most of Skyrim didn't. Whats worse, is i let my lack of faith get the better of me... and now... now im on my way to Valenwood... riding in a caravan with some Khajit traders... hopeing that maybe, just maybe... i can escape the end of days. Valenwood... "Land of the Bosmer", Divines be praised what have i gotten myself into. My family... my friends... my life... turned to ashes before my very eyes... like oblivion itself had consumed the very town i once held so dear... and reduced it to a pile of chared corpses and lost memories.

"_And the scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold  
That when brothers wage war come unfurled  
Alduin, Bane of Kings, Ancient shadow unbound  
With a hunger to swallow the world"_

The gods only know what i could've done to save my family had i listened. No, i heard the whispers, i knew the legends, but for some reason i considered it all fantasy. A prank some kids had cooked up maybe... a... a... a simple trick some sorcerer had conjured for his audience to bring afew extra septims. A bard who spun a wonderous tale of Dragonborns returning and the Elder Scrolls prophecies being correct, the possibilities were endless. But what am i left with, where has my stuborness gotten me; on a carriage, in a Khajit convoy, headed for the dank jungles of Valenwood... Talos... save me.


	2. Prologue

These tales always begin with an odd prologue don't they. Something that provides you, the readers, with a little insight; a little inkling of what is to come. That passage, t'was not the prologue, hardly counts as a chapter in my opinion. But I do remember it, yes I remember it well; for it marked the beginning of an adventure. No, something bigger; to simply call it an adventure would be like comparing an elephant to a piece of cheese. Ah, cheese. How I do love good cheese. Very few people know what qualifies as good cheese these days; those that think they do keep telling me to try Eider cheese. I did, it tasted worse then the back end of a troll. No, I prefer Mammoth cheese, specifically aged Mammoth cheese. Now that is a fine cheese... wait, what was I talking about. Oh yes, the something bigger than an adventure. Yes yes, I watched it unfold, like it was yesterday... or, was it yesterday? No. No maybe it was... was it tomorrow? A week from Morndas? Three nights ago when I was staggering my way through the streets of Mania; or that day I met that old lady whose tongue I ripped out? Hoo hoo hoo hoooo, now there is a story. You see this elderly, haggard woman sneezed when I passed her; she said she had been sick for quite a while. So I offered to aid her in any way that I could and... wait.. maybe this is a story for another time. Perhaps I should let the Something bigger then an adventure unfold, so as not to bore you. Who are you anyway?

* * *

His first sight was of his mothers face; her eyes a beautiful amber, her cheeks a soft red, her hair as black as night. His second sight was of all the beautiful colors in his mothers face draining, as did her life force very soon after. His third sight was of his father: cold, distant, and not much ater, gone much like his mother. Yes the boy remembered his beautiful mother, moments before her passing. The memory of his presence was all that remained of his father, no features. Still that did not stop him from imagining what his father might have been like. This seemed to be a constant activity for the boy, molding an image of his father using his own features. The boy was dark haired, with curly locks that were as tangled as the vines that made up much of Valenwoods beautiful jungles; so similar in fact that his godfather would often tease him by calling him _Ghin eo'tyongl_, which apparently meant "Descendant of the Great Trees" in some ancient tongue. But his hair was not all that earned him such an odd title, for his eyes were a deep and brilliant green, as if they mimic-ed the leaves that surrounded the boy daily. The boys face was tough and strong but still offered a gentle countenance, which he believed he had received from his mother. There was little else he had to go off of, his Godfather told him he shared many similar qualities to his father but when asked, he would never say more than "he was a good man" or "do not think badly of him". Still the boy would imagine, some days his father was a colossal Nord; others he was a wise old Breton. The boy yearned for a day where he might get to meet the man who abandoned him, in his youth it was based on his love for the mysterious figure he only knew as Father. However as he would find that his love would turn to hatred as the years passed by, a hatred that would mold his future and take him down a road shrouded with the unknown.


End file.
